I Was The "Designer Kid": 5 Annoying Realities
Thereís always that one kid. You know the kind, with the crazy hair that makes them stand out like a meatloaf at a vegan dinner? Yeah, some of those kids showed the signs early on that they would end up in the arts. Maybe even as graphic designers. Well I have a confession: I was the "Designer Kid." Yeah. Me. And guess what? I was kind of annoying.
I know, youíre shocked.
Now before I get into things, let me make one thing clear: Iím probably older than you are. My school years took place in the 1980s, and that might predate your birth. And as depressing as that is for me to think about, I tell you this so that you understand that my childhood computers came with CRTs and green text, while yours probably werenít the size of a small horse. These were simpler times, and, as such, so was I. And with that fun little nugget rolling around in the back of your head, letís get into it.
It Started With Colors
My memories start sometime around my third birthday, but from what everyone tells me, Iíve always had a thing for colors, particularly bright ones. Back in the toddler days, I was attracted to neons and the like, but hey, it was the í80s, so you could chalk that up to literally anything. But as I got older and into kindergarten and first grade, particularly when I started dressing myself, the obvious affection for living a colorful life became clear.
I Loved Logos to a Fault
Growing up in the Boston area in the middle of the Celtics/Lakers rivalry and during the Roger Clemens years for the Sox, youíd think that I would have an alarming predilection for sports, but I didnít back then. My dad was only peripherally into hockey, and even though I saw Larry Bird once while I was on the way to a dentist appointment (or another tall white guy with curly blonde hair in short-shorts, my memory is a bit fuzzy), my main focus wasnít on the players, but the logos.
The Wonder Years
Yes, I was the designer kid, and it showed throughout my youth and even into my college years. Do I regret the fact that I was a bit of a pariah? An outcast that tried so hard to be creative that he stuck out like a sore thumb? A kid that would become a target for bullying just because he liked to express himself through art? Nah. Because all of those experiences taught me one thing: donít be afraid to create. And if it wasnít for that, you wouldnít be reading this post today. Heck, Iíd probably be working at my dadís software company, coding something in Visual Basic that had to do with accounting.
Brr. Gives me chills just thinking about it.